Sooner Than You Think
by Ceinwen
Summary: Something I wrote quite a while ago for fun. It was going to be the first chapter in a full story, but I decided to leave it at a one-shot. A hopefully interesting little glimpse into the life and mind of my DA:O character Zovya Cousland before she ever heard of Grey Wardens, with a little humor. Hope you enjoy it, please review! :)


The young woman pushed her hair back from her forehead, replacing her practice weapons after a training session in the courtyard.

"Good job, Zovya," said her father's Arms Instructor. "You're getting much faster. Now keep up with those stamina exercises."

"Thanks, Arvin," she replied. "Maybe one day I'll get to practice in a group with my father's new recruits. Maybe even teach one day."

Arvin shook his head amusedly. 'I doubt that, my Lady. Maybe if you were a man, but the Teryn is protective of his only daughter. You understand, don't you? I don't think any of the men would even risk his wrath to fight you anyway!"

"Yes, don't remind me," Zovya rolled her eyes. "I'm good at this and my father knows it. I just want to see a real battle one day, be a warmaiden like my mother was. But at this rate, who knows if that will ever happen!"

"We will have to wait and see, my Lady," said Arvin diplomatically.

Zovya smirked, knowing he didn't really think there was a chance but didn't want to hurt her feelings. He knew her father's disposition well, and Arvin himself was from the older generation that still found women in battle a curiosity. Zovya was determined to get there one day though. There were few enough warmaidens in her mother's day and that didn't stop _her_. Female soldiers were much more commonplace nowadays, completely accepted. She felt it was only her father's protectiveness and her mother's insistence that she start trying to settle down that were holding her back.

"Alright Arvin, see you tomorrow," she laughed as she left the courtyard.

Zovya unbuckled her armor as she walked toward her quarters. She stopped momentarily to wrangle the top half off of herself, wishing for the millionth time someone would invent armor that fit more comfortably and moved with the wearer. The midmorning sun beat down, and air moved much more easily through her shirt. She continued on, carrying her coppery breastplate under her right arm and greeting guards as she passed them. She was almost to her quarters when one of her father's younger soldiers came jogging up behind her.

"My Lady!" he puffed.

"What is it, Ser Gilmore?" she said, trying not to smile at how out of breath he was.

"You must come with me at once. Nan is on the warpath!" he said half-jokingly, but there was a hunted look in the soldier's eyes.

At this Zovya couldn't help but laugh. "What is she going on about now?" she asked, shaking her head fondly.

"Your dog's got into the larder again and won't let anyone near him. Nan's so furious she's threatening to pack up and find work somewhere else!"

"Nan won't leave - she was my nursemaid before she was the cook. She's been with my family too long and cares too much for us," Zovya waved her hand dismissively. "But I will come with you. Let me quickly change into -"

Nan's screams and her hound's barking floated to her ears from across the grounds.

"Never mind, let's just head over," Zovya amended, wide-eyed.

Zovya and Ser Gilmore jogged through Castle Cousland's maze of corridors. Nan's screams pierced their ears as they stopped outside the larder door.

"Maybe I should put my armor back on," Zovya said wryly to Gilmore, who grimaced nervously in return. She turned the doorknob and they entered.

"_You!_" Nan shrieked, whirling on them as soon as they crossed the threshold.

"Nan, calm down," said Zovya, holding up her hands. "What's going on?"

"Your _cur_ is raiding my larder - again! This time he won't let anyone in there. He's rabid I tell you! Too much gallivanting in the countryside, running into who-knows-what manner of creature! I always said no good would come of letting him run willy-nilly…worthless mutt!"

"Now Nan," Zovya said in a long-suffering tone. "Dommin is a purebred Mabari warhound, you know that. He's fully trained, listens to every word I say. He needs his country runs to let out all the energy he would normally use in battle. There must be some good reason he won't let you in."

"Roast!" Nan cried. Zovya and Gilmore threw a confused glance at one another.

Nan gestured in exasperation. "That's the _reason_! He's surely destroying the roast I was preparing for tonight's meal! Ohhhhh!" She clenched her fists in her apron desperately.

Gilmore shifted uncomfortably. "He really only listens to you, perhaps you should go in and see what he's on about."

"Alright, alright. Nobody panic!" Zovya said sarcastically as she opened the larder door.

She was surprised to see Dommin facing down a giant, especially ugly gray rat. It seemed to have longer and more teeth than normal, and its bulging eyes glinted red despite the fact that it wasn't albino. It wasn't the only one; four more were scattered around the larder, bristling and ready for a fight.

"Disgusting!" Zovya shuddered. "Gilmore, hand me a blade!"

Zovya spied a large hole at the larder's back wall where the rats had presumably burrowed in. She prodded the nearest rat with the flat of Gilmore's longsword, trying to move it aside so she could reach a sack of potatoes just beyond. She hoped to block the hole, then kill the cornered rodents. The rat, however, had other ideas. With a furious shriek it charged her, mouth open wide and questing for a chunk of leg.

Zovya started with surprise, but quickly recovered and pinned the creature to the ground with the tip of her sword. The other rats charged in unison at her and her hound. Hearing the commotion, Gilmore rushed in with his dagger drawn. Zovya sliced clean through the next rat as Gilmore's dagger spun through the air to slay another. Dommin caught one in his powerful jaws, crushing and shaking it until it flew to pieces. The last rat squealed and leaped onto Dommin's back but he shook it off immediately. Its head smashed against the larder's stone wall and it fell twitching to the ground.

"Well!" Nan cried, bursting in on the bloody scene. "Half the food in here has blood on it now - it'll have to be thrown out. I hope you're happy!"

"Don't forget Dommin just alerted us to a pest problem. Would you rather have rats breeding in here, leaving droppings all over the food stores?" said Zovya. Dommin barked heartily in agreement.

"I don't think those were ordinary rats, either," Gilmore put in.

"You're right, I've never seen rats like that before," Zovya agreed. "They looked like creatures from stories Fergus tried to scare me with when we were young. I'll have to talk to father about this."

She turned to Nan. "There. You can get back to your cooking. Sorry about the mess," she added. Dommin hung his head, whining, then hesitantly looked up at Nan.

"Oh…it's okay. And don't you give me those puppy dog eyes!" she reprimanded the dog, who shuffled a little but kept staring. Nan sighed. "Well, you did a good thing. Here you go. Just remember, this never happened!" she said to all three of them as she scraped some pork onto the floor for the dog.

Zovya chuckled to herself as she walked to her room for the second time. Despite feeling impatient to start a career as a warrior, she loved her life at the castle. She'd grown up with two loving parents and an older brother she admired. Though as a man, Fergus was often busy with his many duties, she and her brother had been close and children and were still always happy to see each other. She'd been raised to love learning, justice, her country and battle. Sometimes she wondered if her mother was right, if she should start casting about for a husband before it was too late. Maybe keep someone on the hook until she was ready to settle down? But she didn't think that was fair. Besides, she wasn't ready to give up her dreams to become a political pawn or the wife of some old man who could benefit the family somehow.

Sometimes the pressure of being noble could really pile up on a person. So many duties, and having to be "proper" all the time. Most of it came naturally to her after twenty-three years, and she truly didn't mind it overall. She just wanted to get out from behind the castle walls more often, travel to other lands, get some experience in life and on the battlefield before she was stuck here for good. Sometimes she felt like she was meant for some other life than this one. She shook her thoughts away. _Who knows what the future will hold,_ she thought. _Battle and adventure? Politics and intrigue? I hope not! Maybe love? And who have I met worthy of that?_ Sighing, she once again told herself to focus on today and the tasks at hand…for now, at least.

"My Lady!" said a deep voice, startling her. "Your father wishes to see you in the main hall as soon as possible. There's important company." A guard stepped out in her path, nodding to her as he delivered his message. _Dabit, I think his name is._ She strove to remember the names of all her father's men. In her opinion, a good commander cared for each individual in his army. She'd seen that attitude from her father and brother, and the loyalty it inspired in their men.

"Thank you," she said, nodding in return. "Can you tell him I just need to freshen up and I'll be there straight away?"

"Yes, my Lady." The guard bowed and turned on his heel to relay the message.

After washing up in her sink basin, Zovya turned to her closet for a suitable outfit. She had to admit that although she was too impatient to do much with herself for the most part, she did enjoy dressing up from time to time. She picked out a dark maroon dress that complimented her dark brown hair and green eyes. She twisted two thin braids down either side of her face, and another two right behind them that she fastened back with a small pearl clasp, while the rest of her hair hung straight to brush her shoulders. Her shoes were dark brown with maroon embroidery and a small heel. She briefly considered makeup, but decided to just get going.

Once again making her way through the many outdoor hallways of Castle Cousland, Zovya rounded a corner to find her mother, Elenor, talking with another older woman, a young man and a female elf.

"Ah, Zovya dear," her mother held out a hand to her, blue-gray eyes sparkling happily. "Come meet my friend Lady Landra. I think you were a small child when you last saw her. We mostly keep in touch through correspondence now she's moved so far away. Thankfully she was finally able to come visit again!"

"Lady Landra," Zovya curtsied. "I suppose I should say 'how nice to see you again'."

The older woman laughed. "I suppose I should as well! I don't blame you for not remembering me, I think you were about seven years old last we met. This is my son Dairren, and my lady-in-waiting, Iona."

Greetings were murmured all around. Dairren stepped forward unexpectedly and took her hand, kissing it briefly. Zovya couldn't help blushing at the gesture, or noticing how handsome he was. _Keep your wits about you,_ she chastised herself. _This is probably some ploy of Mother's. There's probably nothing between his ears but gold coins!_ At least that's what she told herself to distract from his deep blue eyes and carefully unkempt reddish brown hair. Their gaze held for a moment, then Zovya turned back to her mother's friend.

"Forgive me, but I've never seen an elven lady-in-waiting," she said curiously.

"Right you are," said the noblewoman. "I've never seen another either. But Iona has been faithful to me for many years. Her old post was no longer needed, and I had just found myself absent a lady-in-waiting. I agreed to take her on in that capacity, so she wouldn't end up on the street."

"My Lady has been very kind to me," Iona said softly.

"That_ is_ very kind, Lady Landra. Now I must be going, Father has called me to the main hall."

"Yes, Arl Howe is here with most of his army. They may march to Ostagar as soon as tomorrow. Your brother will be joining them as well," said her mother.

"I didn't know they were leaving so soon - why didn't they tell me?!" Zovya said in surprise. "My apologies, I must go. Perhaps we'll see each other later." She and Dairren shared a last glance as she hurried away.

At the main hall doors, Zovya paused to run her fingers through her hair and smooth the front of her dress. Then she entered calmly as if she hadn't practically run there while muttering angrily to herself.

"There you are, pup!" her father's voice rang out as soon as she appeared.

"Hello, Father," she couldn't help but smile as she walked to him, despite her annoyance. "Mother just told me you intend to leave tom-"

"Patience, Zovya. Say hello to Arl Howe. He and his men will be marching with us to the battle at Ostagar," said the Teryn.

"Don't worry, Bryce," said the Arl to her father. "These youngsters often forget respect of elders in their exuberance. It's to be expected, and I assure you I take no offense."

Zovya sighed inwardly. The Arl's constant passive-aggressive, woe-is-me comments were just one reason she disliked him. He'd always seemed sneaky and self-serving to her.

"I apologize, Arl Howe. How do you do?" she said aloud.

"Ask me that after the battle! If our forces prevail, we'll all be doing just fine," he said, then paused. "You know, I should bring my son Nathaniel to visit after this is all over. You two are just about the same age, if you'll recall."

"No, I don't think he and I have ever met," said Zovya shortly. "Mother tells me you and Father may be off to battle tomorrow, is that right?"

"How quickly the young ones' attention turns," said Howe with a forced chuckle. "Yes, we are preparing now. Some of your father's men have already left the castle, and most of the rest will leave in a few hours. My men have been held up, but will follow soon. Then on to _glory_ at Ostagar!" The Arl laughed as if at a private joke.

"Loghain believes this may not be a true blight," said Teryn Cousland to his daughter. "Chances are this battle will be swift and easily won."

Zovya felt a ping of hope. "Father, if that is the case, why not bring me along?"

Her father laughed. "Then who would run the castle? No Zovya, I called you here to tell you I'm putting you in charge while we're gone. You've been doing so well already with all your administrative and oversight duties, now it's time to experience what it's like to manage everything on your own. This will be like a practice run. I trust you'll do admirably in my absence."

"What about mother? Can she not _oversee_ while you're gone? Why do you need me to do it?" she protested.

"Pup, your mother needs a rest every now and then, and she has company right now. Let her have time to relax and catch up with and old friend," her father replied.

Zovya sighed and folded her arms._ Sounds like a pretty thin excuse to me,_ she sulked. _Sooner or later I'll get a chance to prove myself, she thought. When Father sees what I can do, he'll surely let me fight at his side! _She just hoped it was sooner rather than later.


End file.
